I woke up this morning to the sound of the garbage truck collecting my neighbor’s trash – but not mine. I missed trash day, again.
A few weeks ago, though, I did not miss trash day, and I watched the giant garbage truck lumber up the street, stopping at each home and picking up the trash. Watching the large arm grab the plastic bins at our curb sent me back many years to a visit I had at Grandma’s house.
I must have been around 8 or 10 years old. We were visiting Grandma’s house, and she had a large picture window at the front of their home. Though we spent most of the time playing in the basement or out back, once in a while we would be in the front yard or living room on trash day at just the right time to see the garbage truck come by.
I distinctly remember perching on the back of the couch and watching as the large, city garbage truck came up to the curb. The garbage worker placed the garbage can on a lift and the lift then tossed the contents into the side of the truck. The worker also threw any other bags or bins of garbage into the truck. The worker then reached for a large knob which engaed the hydraulic compactor that came down and compressed each house’s trash contents into the truck.
Watching this process was pretty much the best part of the day. How cool is that? We have a big machine that comes around and takes everyone’s garbage! Awesome! Amazing! Wonderful! The world is full of greatness!
As I watched the (even more advanced) garbage truck at my own curb the other day, a little bit of that sense of wonder and amazement returned, if only for an instant. For a moment, in my mind’s eye, I was back perched back on the back of Grandma’s couch watching something amazing and wonderful.
*Sigh* … I think I’ll go get some Shasta, Otter Pops, and maybe even a push-up from the Schwan’s man.